


Caduceus' Winter's Crest

by thepetulantpen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Gift Giving, Winter’s Crest, also posted on my tumblr (same username, literally just a long christmas drabble with all the characters, wholesome critmas content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepetulantpen/pseuds/thepetulantpen
Summary: Caduceus gives the Mighty Nein gifts for Winter's Crest!





	Caduceus' Winter's Crest

Caduceus is, predictably, an incredible gift giver. He knows people and he knows what they want, sometimes before even they know. He may not always understand _why_ they think such things are necessary, but he knows they at least _think_ they know what they need. 

It makes preparation for Winter’s Crest fairly straightforward. As straightforward as it gets for this group, anyway. 

Which is not very straightforward at all, as Caduceus discovers that some of them don’t even celebrate Winter’s Crest- apparently, it’s a regional thing- or really any holidays, especially those that involve gift giving. It’s complicated, as it always is for the Mighty Nein. 

But he knows, at least, that his gifts will be good and he thinks that’ll make up for the complicated dynamics. 

The morning of Winter’s Crest is not a morning of uproarious celebration, as Caduceus had anticipated. He would’ve thought he’d mixed up the date if not for the passing mutterings of “happy Winter’s Crest” through the bar and the sparse white and blue decorations. 

He supposes the level of holiday cheer doesn’t particularly matter. He’s got a mission to complete and lots of fickle people to reason with. 

Caduceus finds Fjord lagging just behind the others, finishing breakfast in the tavern as the rest scurry off to their respective mischief.

For Fjord, Caduceus has something he picked up quite a while ago, during another time by the sea, just before they became pirates, long before they found Molly again, and longer before they began travelling north, aiming for a nearly nameless spot in the woods. 

For Fjord, Caduceus has something that he thinks, that he hopes, will ground him, will remind him, will clear the waters of his mind, muddied by power and those who wield it. 

For Fjord, Caduceus has a trinket, something small of the sort children always beg for when they pass cajoling street vendors, of the sort that tourists always point at, of the sort that serves as an impulsively bought souvenir, reminiscent of a walk along the port. 

“Caduceus, I don’t know what to say,” Fjord winds the tiny thing, barely a toy and yet so much more, and looks back at Caduceus as it slowly whirs to life, “Thank you.”

“Thought you could use a reminder of home,” Caduceus smiles, soft and easy yet inscrutable, “I always find that remembering where I came from can help me find the way forward.”

Fjord has magic in his eyes, a child’s joy intent on a magician reading his mind and on a wind-up crab that glitters like a precious treasure in the dimmed lights of the tavern, a treasure that seemed unobtainable in his youth, now easily bought. He looks like he wants to say something, wants to ask more, but he just nods, treasuring the advice as much as the gift. 

...

Caduceus finds Caleb wandering off by himself, discreetly, so as not to distract the rest of the party, trying to seek out materials for his own goals. Caduceus supposes he may be looking for books or spell casting materials or some other mystery item to feed those dark impulses lurking in his head but he hopes that his gift will be just as satisfying. 

For Caleb, Caduceus has something he thinks will be good for him, something apart from those great, overreaching goals, something that’ll make him happy now and perhaps keep him happy, for a while. 

For Caleb, Caduceus has a gift small enough for him to accept, small enough for him to justify even in his self-loathing, far enough removed from his own well-being that he’ll allow it. 

For Caleb, Caduceus has a brush in the shape of a cat paw, bristles gentle and handle covered in soft fabric, crafted especially for a loving cat owner.

Caleb smiles softly, huffing a short laugh in surprise at the gift, not what he expected. He looks relieved to have something mostly inconsequential placed in his hands, nothing grand that he would have to calculate a repayment for, nothing grand that he couldn’t allow himself to have. No, nothing grand, but something nice, nice to use in nervous, quiet moments, with one of his only safe spaces. 

“Caduceus, you know I appreciate this gift, but Frumpkin is not a real cat, you realize?”

“Of course, Caleb. But that doesn’t mean it can’t have nice things, for the times it does exist with us. You know,” Caduceus studies that reluctant little smile of Caleb’s and wishes he did that more often, “I’ve found that most everything, and everyone, deserves something nice sometimes.”

Caleb shifts and almost shakes his head but seems to decide against it, eyes cast back down towards the brush, away from Caduceus and his words. He nods a little, not convinced but willing to pretend, and smiles down at the brush, letting himself have this. 

...

Caduceus finds Yasha by herself as well, not purposefully like Caleb, but by instinct when the rest of the group off is doing something she feels she can’t. The easy chaos of the Mighty Nein is not so easy for her, not being around as much and not wanting to socialize. 

For Yasha, Caduceus has something she could’ve found herself, something that many people have given her, something everybody knows she’s fond of and another something that she hasn’t, but should’ve, been given long ago. 

For Yasha, Caduceus has something that not everybody knows why she wants, something that he can only guess the half of, something that is perhaps as meaningful as it is abundant and another something that he’s given to many people over his many years. 

For Yasha, Caduceus has a misfit bunch of flowers, for their variety rather than their beauty, and a whisper in her ear, for its gentleness rather than its intimacy.

Yasha smiles through her tears, happy to see Caduceus knows what to say. Expert words from the maker and protector of graves, kind words from a new friend.

“I know she’s never really gone.” She whispers too, not letting this private, grieving moment travel farther than her and Caduceus.

He touches the flowers and tells her, “She lives in the flowers that grow from the earth where she lays, in the rain that feeds them, and in the sky where it is all born. She lives in your heart and your mind so,” he pauses and smiles to match her, “you should try to keep it a happy place to live.”

Her tears do not diminish the value of her smile, enduring like a flower growing in the cracks of a road, or a tough as nails barbarian with a broken heart. 

...

Caduceus finds Beau next, catching her supervising, or, more accurately, spectating, some chaos, waiting for her moment to shine. Caduceus hates to interrupt, but he’s not sure when he’ll get another chance to speak with her alone. 

For Beau, Caduceus has something that the iron workers gave him a strange look when he mentioned, something that’s pretty rad, if he does say so himself. 

For Beau, Caduceus has something that is perhaps not very important in the long run, but is certainly something she’ll like, something more special, more shiny, more cool than what she has at the moment, and it does certainly have a meaning that she may appreciate, a meaning vague enough to brush away if his hunch is wrong. 

For Beau, Caduceus has a set of well-made throwing stars, shape familiar to no one but Beau, made to last longer with more flair, purple eyes deliberately inset at their centers. 

Beau squints at Caduceus, seeing the symbols, but doesn’t question them, just grins at the new weapons in her hands. 

“These are pretty cool, Duce. Thanks.” Beau claps a hand on his shoulder, casual gesture not so casual from distant, curt Beau. 

“They’ll probably last you a bit longer than the old ones. It’s important to hold onto some things, especially when they mean something to you.”

Beau weighs the throwing stars in her hands, peering at the eyes with her piercing gaze that sees through enemies and allies alike, as if prying information from this inanimate object. She grunts in what could be called agreement by a generous witness and smiles again, not the strained, forced one, but the natural, instinctual one that everyone, no matter how grumpy, has within them. 

...

Caduceus finds Molly not alone, never alone, if he can help it, but with Yasha, lounging lazily after an energetic day of hijinks. They make a good pair, loudness and quietness fitting together like puzzle pieces, Caduceus doesn’t want to break it up. Luckily, he doesn’t have to, as Yasha sees him and excuses herself, disappearing easily without resistance from Molly’s unconditional acceptance. 

For Molly, Caduceus has something that required him to make friends with weavers and fabric workers all through town, something that took quite a bit of preparation in advance to get just right. 

For Molly, Caduceus has something he should have never been without, something that even Caduceus, who did not know him before, thinks he looks incomplete without, something that pulls together this fascinating mixed bag of a person. 

For Molly, Caduceus has a new coat, just as vibrant as the torn and bloody one stolen away and just as shiny as the dirt covered and potential filled one left behind, a coat with all the true colors and false gems the world has to offer, arranged in largely nonsensical patterns. 

Molly’s smile is brighter than the sun and the stars and the moons all put together and is certainly not a rare commodity but it is a delightful one. 

“Thank you, Mr. Clay. This is amazing, I love it.” Molly grabs him in a hug, pulls back too soon, kisses him on the cheek, and pats him on the back, indecisive flurry of affectionate movement, trying to fit as much into every precious moment as he can. 

Caduceus smiles at Molly, not willing to dampen the frantic cheer even if he sees the death and the unresolved mysteries hanging like clouds over his twice risen head, especially on such a wonderful holiday. 

“It’s different, but change can be nice. That’s the most important lesson I’ve ever been taught- that something can beautiful in all its forms, no matter how changed or unrecognizable.” 

Molly tilts his head, caught between understanding and cluelessness, but rights it in the next second, deciding to be confident no matter his interpretation. He’s much too busy twirling and admiring the new coat to get too caught up in philosophy, anyway. 

...

Caduceus finds Nott and Jester together, partners in crime and in solving crime, relaxing after a successful day. He meant to make gift-giving a private matter, but he supposes these two will be fine. 

Jester scoots close, eager, and Nott scoot backs, nervous. 

Caduceus makes the logical choice for who to start with.

For Jester, Caduceus has multiple somethings, somethings to spoil Jester in the way she is surely accustomed, somethings from himself, from home and from a favor he had to pull. 

For Jester, Caduceus has something delivering the love she’s gone too far away from, something to make life a little sweeter, and something that’ll serve as a wonderful holiday surprise. 

For Jester, Caduceus has a letter from her mother, who worried she wouldn’t be able to reach them when they wandered so far, that he’s been carrying with him, a box of sweets he made to resemble those from the Coast as best as he could imitate, and a signed, coveted copy of Tusk Love from a very, very kind librarian. 

Jester dances about the room, taking Caduceus and Nott with her, so happy, everything she deserves. When she sits, she tucks into the box of pastries, tucks the letter into her journal and tucks the book against her chest, close to her heart. Her smile is filled with crumbs between her teeth and impaled on her fangs, happiness too overwhelming to wait for them to clear. 

“Oh, Duces this is wonderful! So wonderful- how did you even get these? Your baking is so good! Duce, you’re the best!” she stops, then, eyes darting from the cover art on the newest copy of Tusk Love to Nott by her side. “Do have something for Nott, too?”

Kind girl, the kindest he’s met in a long time. “Of course I do, Jester, but,” he pauses for a second, looking between these two who would much rather give to friends than receive anything, “Be sure to make it a good day for not just your friends, but you too.”

Jester is visibly unsure how to respond, but she smiles at the gesture, recognizing it as kind, regardless of its specific implications. Caduceus thinks that’s fine, his meaning isn’t always as important as his intentions. 

Nott looks ready to protest a present, but she can’t, not when it’s been placed in a wrapped box before her. 

For Nott, Caduceus has something that was much easier for him to find, though he unfortunately had to lie to the shopkeeper to get the proportions right. 

For Nott, Caduceus has something she would never choose for herself, something that she will likely need the help of her friends to truly appreciate, something that will pay off someday, when she is happy with herself, no matter what form that takes. 

For Nott, Caduceus has a dress, fit for a little lady, of a shiny gold, with even shinier buttons, that may compliment green skin and bring out yellow eyes, or may just be a nice sundress for an average halfing, whatever she chooses. 

Nott’s eyebrows pull together as she looks at the silky fabric sliding between her clawed fingers, caught between contempt and self pity. She looks at Caduceus with the barely concealed disappointment of accepting a lame gift but Jester grabs her shoulders and beams down at the garment. 

“Oh, Nott! You’ll look so pretty in this!” Jester, wiser than she knows, softens her voice and looks at Nott carefully, “Don’t you think?”

“I,” Nott forces a smile, not one to disappoint, “If you think you so.”

Jester shakes her head and chuckles, “Come, I’ll show you.”

She pulls Nott towards the dingy little mirror of their room and puts the dress up in front of her, letting her see, twirling her around. Caduceus can’t hear everything she says, but he catches snatches of nostalgia, talk about mothers, expensive dresses, and playing princess. 

“I wasn’t sure if you would be a dress sort of person, but I can always have it modified for you,” Caduceus has to sit to meet Nott’s eyes, but he doesn’t mind scooting across the floor to do it. “I’ve always found that decorating is the best way to make something your own,” he points to Jester’s pink bag and trails his fingers across his staff, where he’s made so many little changes over the years, “And a sense of style is the best way to decorate yourself. In my opinion, anyway.”

He thinks privately of Molly’s tattoos and Beau’s hair. He doesn’t mention them aloud; Nott is a smart girl, she can connect the dots herself. 

Nott doesn’t look at Caduceus or the dress when she smiles, just keeps the grin to herself, coming to peace with something, here with friends. Nothing more to say. 

When Caduceus stands to leave, Jester throws her arms around him, pulling him down into a warm hug, joyful smile pressed against his ear. “I’m sorry nobody got you anything, Caduceus,” she whispers, loathe to speak sadness into reality. 

Caduceus only smiles and gently pries her away to look her in the eyes, eyes so full of unraveling layers of feelings far more complicated than could be labelled as mere sadness or happiness. 

He thinks of every smile of the Mighty Nein, the different ways they twist across their faces. Whether they’re unrestrained or subdued, whether they’re fanged or dulled, whether they’re frequent or rare- Caduceus treasures each of them. 

“Oh, Jester. You’ve all already given me wonderful gifts.” 

...

Caduceus expected this. He expected this and he knew it would be a mess but not even the gods could’ve predicted just how much of a mess it would be. 

_Mother, help me._

“Ah!” Jester trips over a roll of garland and nearly crashes to the floor when she sees Caduceus, calmly surveying the chaos, “We didn’t expect you to be back so early!”

“Ah,” maybe he should’ve given them more of a chance then, “Should I leave and come back?”

Fjord says no at the same time Beau and Jester shout yes. Caduceus rules him outnumbered and settles on the floor outside the door, listening to a chorus of thuds, swears, and general rushing around a tiny room. 

Molly is sent out to retrieve Caduceus, opening the door with a grin. 

“You can come in now. Take two, everybody!”

Caduceus stands, slowly to give time for the scrambling he still hears within the room. Even with the seconds of delay, he catches the final hurry to get into place in the center of the room, Yasha in the midst of standing and Fjord in the midst of recovering from a fumble with the decorations. 

“Happy Winter’s Crest, Caduceus!” 

The Mighty Nein smiling brilliantly is really the main object of his attention, but his eyes rove over the hastily mounted silvery decorations all around the room, from a cheap garland to hand-made snowflakes to Jester’s drawings of snowmen and other dubious snow creatures. There’s also a present in the middle of the room, a moderately sized box covered in two different varieties of colored paper, having seemingly run out of one kind in the middle of wrapping it. 

“Open it, open it!” Jester bounces up in down in an excitement the rest of the Nein fail to match, awkward looks of “mayday” exchanged between Beau, Yasha and Caleb in the back. 

Caduceus dutifully tears open the packaging, revealing a box filled haphazardly with what appears to be as many herbs as one could reasonably attain in an evening, a new tea set, and a folded paper card. It has a beautiful drawing of snowmen outfitted to look like all the members of the Nein, both present and past, on the front and the signed names of everybody in the room scrawled on the inside. 

“This is wonderful. Thank you, all of you.” It really is so wonderful. Thoughts of being on the wrong path are furthest from his mind at this moment, so certain in the company of these people. 

Jester grins at him again and Molly steps forward, to stand with her at the front. “The night is still young! There’s more celebrating to do.”

“Yes! There’s supposed to be _snow_ tonight, Cad! Snow! Have you ever seen snow before?” Jester’s eyes shine with the wonder of a girl from the warm coast. 

“Once, I think.”

“Well, you’ve never seen snow with the Mighty Nein before!”

With visions of snowmen, snow angels and disastrous snowball fights, Caduceus follows Jester outside, feeling the others trailing them, eager for the experience, eager for the company, eager to feel joy warm them in the winter wonderland just outside this shabby inn. 

If anybody is unhappy about coming back inside with melting snow dripping down their backs (Molly you traitor) and an apparently permanent layer of cold over their noses and fingers, nobody complains, too happy to see the new winter ushered in by a new family.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, that went way longer than I thought! I think I could've made this a bit better but I wanted to get it out on Christmas! I just wanted to write a bit of holiday action for the Nein, they deserve it after all they've been through (plus I liked the idea of Caduceus being an amazing gift giver). 
> 
> Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
